


Tease

by vvywern



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Maybe a little OOC, More Tags to be added as I go, Q is an absolute tease, Smut, blowjob, ive never written james bond shit before, like five or six chapters in is where the real 00Q begins, lots of smut and im not sorry, probably some fluff too, somewhat slow progression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-09 09:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11101464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvywern/pseuds/vvywern
Summary: Q is rather in tune with his emotions, but is equally aware and acknowledging of logic. This is why he swore he will not, under any circumstance, become more than professionally involved with James Bond, no matter how much he might want to.However, this is becoming an exceedingly frustrating promise for Q to keep.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be relatively short but I will (hopefully) be updating frequently to make up for that.

Q is rather in tune with his emotions, but is equally aware and acknowledging of logic. This is why he swore he will not, under any circumstance, become more than professionally involved with James Bond, no matter how much he might want to.

However, this is becoming an exceedingly frustrating promise for Q to keep.

Bond is undoubtedly an attractive man, physically and mentally. He can keep up with Q's banter and that is perhaps his most attractive quality — according to Q, anyway.

Yet, James Bond is a despicable man in more than one way. Q's biggest issue with Bond is the man's sexuality and pursuit of physical intimacy, as it has never been genuine. There is always something he wants when he crawls into bed with someone; something more than just the want to be with said person.

"Good morning, Q."

"007," Q greets, kindly and feigning a lack of enthusiasm.

"What did I do wrong this time?" Bond questions with a faintly smug expression. 

Q gives him a flat, unimpressed look over the rim of his glasses and says, "Surprisingly, nothing."

"You don't seem flattered to see me," James says doubtfully, but that smile reveals that there is no true offense being taken by Q's lack of interest.

"Perhaps you're reading into my tone too much," Q suggests, looking down to his computer screen for a moment before shutting the laptop and turning his attention back to the agent before him.

"Perhaps," James murmurs.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Q asks. James opens his mouth and Q continues, "Something that does not put my career on the line, 007."

James smiles his infamous smile; a smile that is close lipped and rather secretive. A smile that sends a jolt right through Q's body. "Is it wrong for me to want to see you?" James asks.

"That depends," Q replies calmly, "on your intentions."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," James replies smoothly, pulling a chair up to the desk Q sits at and seating himself across from him.

Looking contemplative, as if pondering how to properly word his response, Q laces his fingers together and places his hands on the counter of the desk.

"Let's not play games, 007."

"Are you not in the mood for fun?"

"I'm afraid not," Q says with a little smile that makes the corners of his mouth quirk up. James leans back in his chair and stares at Q's lips, blatantly and unabashedly.

"I'll be honest," Q says rather directly, "that if anyone else were flirting with me the way you've been flirting, I'd probably be in their bed by now."  
James quirks a brow, undeniably surprised. Q continues to smile, looking rather pleased with himself as he goes on. "Bond, I find you immensely too cocksure — slightly arrogant, even."

"Tell me more," James insists, now leaning in across the desk toward Q.

"You're so used to getting your way with sex," Q explains after another passing moment of consideration. "Getting into someone's pants comes so easily to you and, I must admit, it's rather amusing to deny you what you're so used to getting handed."

"Tease."

Q laughs a little. "Perhaps." He stands up and buttons up the front of his suit, deftly using just one hand to do so. "If that's all... Have a good day, 007," Q says in goodbye, heading for the door and ending their conversation as soon as it had started.

"Q," James says, just as Q's hand lands on the handle of the door. "Are you a virgin?"

Q looks over his shoulder at Bond, raising a dark brow. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"

"I would, I suppose that's why I asked," James replies smoothly and Q catches the subtle smirk that crosses his handsome features. For a moment it looks like Q is considering answering the question, but he turns away and opens the door.

When Bond sees that an answer to his question is not coming, he requests just one more thing. "Would you at least call me James?"

Q waves goodbye to Bond as he leaves the room, not likely to yield to the request.

"You're no fun," Bond murmurs as he watches Q's retreating form, paying particular attention to his arse. He swears Q sways his hips in the slightest, just to taunt and tease Bond.


	2. Chapter Two

He gets a text the next afternoon from Bond.

_Q?_

_Yes, 007?_

_Would you say no if I invited you to dinner?_

_Why don't you ask, and see for yourself?_

_My place, 8, tonight?_

_No, thank you._

Q smiles to himself as he imagines James's annoyance with him. He texts Bond back after several minutes pass with no reply.

_Do you remember calling me a tease?_

_Like it was yesterday._

_Very funny, 007._

_Thank you, Q. You were saying?_

_If you insist on calling me a tease, I ought to live up to that, don't you think?_

_Please don't._

_I think I will._

*****

"You little shit," he mutters.

James looks over the few texts Q had sent to him, with a delightful frustration that tugs at his guts. He can't help but wonder if Q would ever actually sleep with him, and his thoughts begin to spiral as he sets his phone aside and closes his eyes. He's never been one for an especially vivid imagination, but now seems to be an exception.

James's fantasies are obscene and lewd: He imagines Q's eyes, heavy and lidded with want. His brilliant green irises subdued, but the focus of his pupils intense behind the frame of his glasses, knocked askew.

Q's pink lips, swollen from kissing, blossoming open around the tip of his cock and stretching around the girth. Q's tongue licking along the veins that run on the underside of his erect length.

Q's knees, sore and beginning to bruise from begging and kneeling on the floor for so long.

Q's sleek hand and slender fingers on his own length, desperately chasing release along with James.

The varying details and mental images of Q sucking him off is too much for James and there's an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. He steps into the shower after pulling off his clothes and finds his release within minutes.


	3. Chapter Three

"Look me in the eye," James murmurs, "and tell me you don't want me."

"You really should give this up," Q answers, avoiding compliance to the demand as best he can.

James has Q pressed up against a wall in a secluded corridor of the busy building. His hands, strong and thick, are at either side of Q's head. His palms are flush against the wall and Q's hands grasp the strap of his messenger bag.

"Is that a gun in your pants?" James remarks, and Q scoffs.

"Don't finish that, please," Q says, flushed and a little irritated. "I have work to do."

"Like me?" Bond questions.

Q gives him a look that is a complete and total shutdown.

Bond stares at Q a moment longer before using his fingers as springs to push himself off from the wall and away from Q, so that the younger man can no longer smell the faint scotch on his breath. Q does seem slightly on edge and perhaps it's best not to push the matter, so Bond tucks his hands into the front pockets of the pants of his suit, following Q as he makes his way.

Q tuts. "Just as I thought you were backing off."

"I figured I would accompany you on your way," Bond replies with a smile.

"I don't need a bodyguard."

"I know you don't need one. Consider me a friend."

Q barks out a laugh, and then composes himself. "007," he says as they walk, "I made a promise to myself that our relationship would be entirely professional. We are not friends."

"Why is that? Were you thinking about making it something more?" He asks probingly.

"I think that's already been made clear," Q says through gritted teeth, pulling Bond aside into an empty room.

"Breaking your promise so soon?" Bond asks as Q presses him against a wall, out of sight from any passerby.

"Bond," Q says, his voice low with warning.

"Q," Bond murmurs, sounding intimate.

"I am not going to pretend to be flattered or seduced by your endless flirting," Q mutters, almost scoldingly. Bond listens with curiosity. "That's because you're insufferable, and because of my personal preference."

Bond feels a little frustrated by Q's willpower. "And what is your preference?"

"My preference is that when I have sex," Q whispers harshly, looking to the door to make sure no one is looking or listening in, "I'm not having sex with someone who will throw me along into a pile of ex-lovers, Bond. I want to matter, and your reputation proceeds you — nobody matters to you."

Bond looks like steel, and Q knows he's gotten to him. The assassin says nothing as Q stalks away, readjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he leaves. There is no fun sway in his hips anymore.

Q is willing to flirt some, but ultimately, Bond was destined to test Q's limits and make him snap. That's what he did just now. That isn't what upset Bond, though. What upset Bond is Q thinking that after all they'd been through, he didn't care about him.

*****

Q gave Bond an idea. He expresses this to Q.

"Something finally got into that thick skull of yours?" Q asks bitterly. "Impressive."

"I do have to think, time to time," Bond says, accepting the verbal beating.

"Well, are you going to tell me what this idea is?" Q questions, looking briefly at Bond.

"No," James says.

"Then leave. You're wasting my time and ruining my focus."


	4. Chapter Four

Q gets to his office in the morning to find a steaming mug of tea on his desk. He lets it cool and reads the letter that accompanies it before he drinks.

The letter is more of a note: 'I care.' James is no secret admirer. He's very blatant. Q smiles, despite not wanting to.

The tea is with a little more sugar than usual but Q ignores this and finishes it anyway as he goes through a pile of paperwork on his desk.

A knock on the door, followed by: "How was it?"

"I take coffee in the morning," Q lies.

"No, you don't," Bond says.

"No," Q agrees. "I don't."

Bond smiles a little and Q doesn't. Bond walks away and does not bother him for the rest of the day.

The next several mornings, he finds other evidence of James affection. Cat toys. Cat food. When James checks in, Q laughs despite himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Are you trying to woo me, or my cats?"

"Prick."

*****

Q knows, or at least very firmly believes, that James's fascination with him is a temporary one; an infatuation that will burn out quickly, like a match. And despite this, he's still flattered — and slightly enamored — by James's desperate, albeit materialistic, means of seduction.

One morning, there is a bouquet of flowers on his desk. They are lily flowers, an assortment of colors. Undoubtedly, these are from James. Like always, he checks in on Q several hours into the morning as time ticks into the afternoon.

"Lilies symbolize death," Q says.

"They're your favorite," Bond answers.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, Q," James replies with a delicate smile. "I'm showing you that I care."

Q is stumped, pondering James for the entirety of the day and his efficiency suffers because of this. He leaves work with no answers at all.

*****

He's still thinking about James by the time he gets to his apartment, and ponders if it would be so bad to have sex with him.

He immediately knows that yes, it would probably be bad. Q seeks something romantic and intimate and James .... well, James is a one-time kind of person. After he was done with Q, Q would just be another abandoned lover.

And Q wanted to be lasting. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be adored and he wanted to be wanted.

 _James doesn't want me_ , Q reminds himself. James wants sex. _He'll get in your pants and then throw you aside and kick you to the curb._

Yet... would there be any harm in merely fantasizing? He decides that yes, there likely would be some harm, but he can't avoid it. He fumbles with the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his trousers as he walks to his room. He drops his pants and lets them pool around his feet, then proceeds to step out of them.

He shuts all his laptops and turns away all the cameras or monitors in his room, assuring his privacy.

He finds it easy to become aroused at the thought of James. He has three particular concepts with James that he thinks about.

First, the image of James straddling Q's hips and pinning down Q by the wrists with his broad hands and muscled arms. The image of himself being physically helpless under James Bond, and being absolutely okay with it.

Second, the thought of James pressing a variety of kisses to his neck — a necklace of kisses around his throat. Bruising kisses and whispered kisses alike. Hickeys. Bites.

Third, the calloused and blistered and strong hand of James Bond wrapped around the throbbing length of his cock, slowly pumping up and down with just the right amount of friction as he watches Q with those intense eyes.


	5. Chapter Five

Waking up, Q realizes what a detrimental mistake it was to allow himself to fantasize about James, kissing him and touching him in ways that were absolutely not professional. He heads into work thinking about last night and how ridiculously detailed his imagination had gotten, about how dissatisfied he thinks he’ll be having a lover who is anyone other than James Bond, and about how weak his willpower is becoming to deny James.

Q considers his options in the back of his head as he works.

His first option is to avoid James but he predicts this will be catastrophic, from both him and Bond. He will miss James far too much when avoiding him and he knows himself well; when he misses someone too much, he’s weak. (The only reason he’s ever stayed away from and resisted Bond after he returns from a mission is because Bond always returns with a lover in hand, and Q’s fury and slight jealousy keeps Q away.) As for James… James would hunt him down, and one doesn’t want an assassin after them.

His second option is to feed, fuel and encourage his fantasies and hope for the best; hope that getting off to the thought of James is enough to tide him over for a lifetime, or at least until he’s over Bond.

His third option, which is his final plausible option, is to give himself what he wants. This option is the most tempting and the most damning, in a nature similar to a siren’s song.

Slightly disturbed and discomforted by his lack of options, Q sinks into his rather oversized sweater and tries to bury himself in work. He loses himself in the sound of his fingers tapping over the keyboard, of the gentle tapping, and in the tedious work assigned to him throughout the day. For a day so slow and uneventful, he has a lot of work to do. He stays late, well past the time the sun sinks below the horizon. He checks the clock.

11:43 P.M.

With a huff, he leans back in his chair and stands up, stretching his legs and wriggling his fingers a little to relieve the tension that had built up in them. Perhaps it was time to head home.

“Q.” He knows that deep and silky voice. He feels very vulnerable in his own office as he looks up to James.

“You’ve caught me at the wrong time,” Q mutters, reaching for his messenger bag and pulling it up to his desk. He begins packing his things.

“You still have work to do,” James observes.

“I work from home, time to time.”

“Yes, but you’re not planning on doing so when you go home.” James has a little smirk on his face and Q gets flustered, a blush rising high on his cheeks as he wonders how James might know he had gotten off to the thought of him last night. “You’re just avoiding me.”

“You almost look hurt,” Q observes, feeling a little guilt but refusing to show it. The slight display of pain on James’ face fools Q, for just a moment, that maybe James does care. Q wants so badly to believe that. He opens his mouth to apologize, but then closes it, pressing his lips tightly together.

“Say it,” James murmurs.

Q frowns as he slips his laptop into his bag. “I don’t want to avoid you, but you’re not giving me much of a choice.” That was a lie. Avoiding James was one of three choices that Q had. A little angrily, Q clips his bag shut and straps his over his shoulders, around his neck.

“Give me a chance,” James murmurs, taking a step closer. Q gives him a warning glance over the rim of his glasses and James puts his hands up and slows, as if he’s approaching some wounded and scared animal.

“I don’t need to,” Q snaps, and he looks rather taken aback with his own tone. He straightens his posture and tries to regain his cool. “Bond, you’ve proven time and time again that you are not a man of consistency.”

“But I can be.”

“I doubt it.” Q makes for the door, pushing past James. As he walks past, Q says, “You’re a bit like the sun, 007.”

“Please, explain. Enlighten me,” James asks, catching Q by the wrist. Q doesn’t fight it. He turns to face the assassin.

“Your universe revolves entirely around you. And you attract people but you can’t let them close because they’ll burn up in the inferno that you are. You’re untouchable, Bond. People get stuck in orbit around you because you keep using them, keep using us. We can’t break away from you even if we wanted to. We’re just planets and you are a star and you are so close to absolutely exploding, and when you do, we’re going to burn with you. Whether or not you want us to.”

“I don’t want you to,” James murmurs, reeling Q close to him so slowly that Q doesn’t even notice. He moves so delicately that Q doesn’t realize James has his arm around his waist to hold him close, that his lips are a mere inch from his own.

“Then let me go,” Q whispers upon realizing the position he’s in, though the reality is that there is such care in Bond’s eyes, so much care that Q doesn’t want him to let go at all.

“Is that really what you want?” James asks, and his lips touch Q’s, barely. Q shivers.

“Yes,” Q breathes.

“You lie like a rug,” James says in return, but lets Q go anyways.

Q is stuck, positively glued in place, by James and his presence. He can’t move, like he’s paralyzed with fear and awe; a rabbit staring down a wolf, staring down death. His heart is like a fist against his ribs, pounding and punching with every pulse. He can’t fight this, he can’t conquer this. There is no overcoming the untouchable, the intangible.

There’s no mastering love. Love masters you.

“Bond,” Q says, quietly but firmly. “What do you want from me?”

“Purpose.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies! I didn't update the story recently, I totally forgot to do so. Expect an actual kiss in the next chapter, Chapter Seven!

The rain makes Q think. He thinks mostly about James and what he had said the night before.

 

_ Purpose. _

 

James wanted Q to give him purpose and Q wouldn’t admit this, to himself or anyone else, but hearing that made his heart stop in his chest and it filled him with want, because James became so human in that moment. He was not an assassin who crawled into bed with a dead heart. He was a man who wanted to be a genuine lover, who returned to the same bed night after night with a heart that was so full of life.

 

It was a moment where James had become genuine and honest with Q about what he was feeling and experiencing and Q bites his lip as he replays the moment in his head.

 

His phone buzzes and there’s a text from James.

 

_ Not at work today? _

 

_ Afraid not. I’m feeling under the weather. _

 

_ Let me bring you a tea. _

 

_ I have tea in my flat, 007. _

 

_ I insist. _

 

Q gnaws at his lower lip, considering the offer. James has never been to his flat before and it feels like an intimate step forward in their relationship, even though it’s nothing.

 

_ If you must. _

 

_ I’ll see you in an hour? _

 

_ Sure. _

 

Q doesn’t question how James Bond has his address, and isn’t very worried about it, either. He leans back into the cushion of his chair and lets out a slow sigh, feeling equal parts worried and excited. He badly wants James to be here and it makes his stomach knot and drop in his gut.

 

He’s always been rather slow in the morning, when given the chance, but his work often doesn’t allow for laziness. Today, with James coming so soon, he can’t afford to be slow, either. He’d gotten to work quickly after waking but didn’t brush his teeth or wash his face and he felt a little gross, if he was honest. He’d be embarrassed to have James show up and see him in such a messy state, with stale breath and oily skin.

 

After taking care of the two latter issues, he gets dressed, stripping out of his pyjamas and into somewhat decent clothes. Nothing formal, like a suit or sweater vest, but something other than a baggy shirt and sweatpants. He settles for jeans and an old sweater, one of his favorites.

 

“Hello, you two,” he murmurs as he steps back into the small living room. His two cats are lounging on the chair he’d just been sitting on but as soon as he lay down on the couch, they trot over to him and claim a seat on his lap together. “I reckon today you’ll be meeting 007 today. Shame, I was hoping we could avoid that… I don’t think Bond is going to be very fond of cats.”

 

He lay on the couch a while longer, petting his cats with gentle sweeps of his palm. It feels like he waits hours for Bond, but it’s hardly been more than thirty minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Q nudges his cats off from his lap and quickly gets to the door. He composes himself before opening it, greeted by, of course, none other than Bond himself.

 

“Bond,” he says, calmly.

 

“Q.” James Bond smiles and it’s a different smile. It isn’t hiding anything, nor is it trying to get anything. It simply is. He offers the mug of tea in his hands to Q, and Q accepts it.

 

“What are you playing at?” Q asks.

 

“I thought that was obvious,” Bond murmurs, stepping inside as Q moves himself to invite James inside. “I’m courting you.”

 

“That’s a rather outdated term.”

 

“Well, what word would you prefer?” Q is stumped by this and takes a sip of his tea rather than answering. James takes a look around his flat and Q watches with an expression that one could almost describe as nervous. “The cats, where are they?”

 

Q almost chokes on his tea. “You want to see them?” He asks, incredulous.

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“I didn’t take you for someone who would like cats,” Q says as he sets the tea down on a tabletop nearby. James watches as Q kneels in front of the couch and bends down to look underneath it, raising a brow. “And stop looking at my arse.”

 

“I was doing no such thing,” James insists, a smirk playing at his lips.

 

“Oh, because you’re so innocent,” Q mutters. He straightens out with a cat in his arms, a pretty feline with short white fur and dark eyes. “This is Eliza. Pretty thing, isn’t she?”

 

Bond crouches down across from Q and slowly reaches out to the cat, letting Eliza study him before petting her, scratching her behind the ear with a crooked finger. “Indeed.”

 

“Now, I’m not sure where Mozart is, the tricky tom… He always hides somewhere new.” Eliza wriggles in Q’s arms and he loosens his hold on her, allowing her to leap out from his arms and trot away, not very interested in Q or Bond. “She can be grouchy.”

 

“I wonder where she gets that from?” James muses, earning a punch to the arm from Q. 

 

Q leans past James to reach for his tea and James stops him mid reach, by mere touch. Q hesitates before grabbing the tea and leaning back, looking intently at James.

 

“Would it be so bad for us to be something?” James asks, and Q is touched by the despair in James’s voice.

 

“Detrimental,” Q confirms.

 

“Q,” Bond says, with a tone in his voice that pulls at Q’s very heartstrings. “Would you consider something?”

 

“That all depends on what it is you want me to consider.”

 

Bond looks at Q with his head tilted slightly to the side, at the most acute of angles. “Let me kiss you.”

 

Q looks unimpressed and unswayed by this. “And what?”

 

“And if you don’t like it,” James continues, “I’ll leave you be.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SORRY NO KISS THIS CHAPTER FALSE ALARM but it is coming soon this chapter just didn't go how I planned! Sorry o: I'll make it worth the wait, I promise.

Q struggles to keep a calm facade as he drinks his tea, taking small sips to avoid burning his tongue. James gave him an opportunity to get a taste, a literal taste, of what it would be like to give in to what Q had been resisting for so long; a taste of what it would be like for Q to cross professional bounds with him. Q observes James quietly as he puts the tea down on the floor next to him, looking for some sign of a joke.

 

There’s nothing to be found on James’s face, except for sincerity and want.

 

“Well?” Q says.

 

“Well, what?” Bond mutters.

 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Q asks, making the decision to accept James’s offer on a whim.

 

“You didn’t answer me, so I was airing on the side of caution,” James murmurs.

 

“How unlike you,” Q observes flatly, trying to deflect potential awkwardness or anxiety with his typical wit. But worry and nervousness still makes home in his belly as he watches James and his gaze slips from the blue of his eyes to the soft, chapped pink of his lips. He isn’t sure how to initiate this; it suddenly feels forced, wrong, incorrect in the worst of ways. “Hang on,” Q blurts, as Bond’s hand starts to move for Q. “This feels wrong,” Q mutters. “Very wrong.”

 

Bond has the audacity to look a little annoyed and Q gives him a hard and stern look. Bond just raises his brows, waiting for an explanation.

 

“It doesn’t feel natural,” Q huffs, and looks slightly exasperated as James rolls his eyes.

 

“Maybe,” James suggests frustratedly, “it would feel natural if you hadn’t been running from this for so long and making it some big deal.”

 

“Getting involved with you would put my career on the line, 007. Kissing you  _ is _ a big deal.”

 

Bond stares down Q for a while and when Q refuses to look away, the assassin gets to his feet and paces Q’s flat, as if trying to blow off some steam.

 

“You know what I think?” James says, watching as Q gets to his feet.

 

“What?” Q asks, bristling.

 

“I think you’re making a big deal out of this because you’re scared, Q, scared of --”

 

“-- of losing my job, yes, I’ve said this --”

 

“-- loving.”

 

Q’s nostrils flare once and his lips set in a straight line. He first turns a bright red but the blood quickly drains from his face because James can see right through him as if he’s made of glass.

 

The silence that has come over the room is so thick that it’s almost palpable. Q fists his hands at his side and he trembles, unsure of what emotion it is that makes him shake. James tilts his head as he watches Q lose color. This silence, it’s like poison gas. Q feels like he can hardly breathe and his breathing is becoming more and more shallow, like James knows it all.

 

“I don’t know why,” James murmurs. “I won’t ask why. But you’re scared, Q.”

 

“Please leave,” Q whispers.

 

“Q,” Bond says lowly, quietly, like he is on his knees and pleading.

 

“Please,” Q whispers again. “Please leave, James.”

 

He obeys, scared that that was the first and last time he’d ever hear Q murmur his first name.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No kiss this chapter, but maybe a very sweet and gentle one next update... Warning for rape in this chapter, or at least a somewhat abstract but clear flashback to it. **James is NOT the rapist, nor is Q. Do not fret. Feel free to skip this chapter if reading this content will make you uncomfortable or will trigger you! It won't be central to the story, as far as I know/plan.

Q steps into the boiling hot water of the shower and hisses, gritting his teeth and flinching away from the heat. He quickly cools the water and shudders, from the change in temperature and from the recollection of his last encounter with James Bond.

 

How did James know? Q thought he had his past so well-hidden, from everyone. From himself, even. He thought he had tucked away his past into a deep and dark corner of his mind where he’d never think about it, not even when there was nothing else to think about.

 

How did a heartless assassin know anything about love? James never had a significant other, as far as Q knows, and Q knows a lot. James always had just had lovers and temporary mates that he’d eventually crumple up and toss aside like trash.

 

Q feels pressure building up in his chest and he sinks down until he’s sitting in the shower, bringing his knees to his chest and weeping so hard that his body lurches with each sob. It’s not a light shedding of tears. It’s powerful and ugly, painful and scary. Q feels himself fall apart. He feels all the nails and screws come undone and fall out from the wooden boards he had desperately put up in his mind, as an enclosed room to secure and repress everything bad.

 

The wooden boards fall down, and the darkness leaks out like ink in water.

 

_ Hands. _

 

_ Hands. Going lower, _

_                                lower, _

_                                           lower. _

 

_ Hands where they should not be. These hands do not belong — not here, not there, not anywhere. _

 

_ These hands do not belong on his bare chest, do not belong on the small of his back, do not belong at the jutting bones of his naked hips, do not belong, do not belong, do not belong, donotbelong. _

 

_ He is young, though, when these hands are upon him. He is young. He is hardly an adult. He is naive. He thought and is taught that this is love, this is love, this is LOVE, this is NORMAL, do not PANIC. _

 

Q desperately scrubs at his skin and scratches, like he’s trying to peel off his skin and crawl out of his body. He knows the skin that was touched so forcefully all those years ago is gone, but he can still feel those hands as if they were on him just yesterday. He has new skin cells now and the cells touched by those hands are long gone and dead. But that doesn’t help, because those touches were more than skin deep.

 

He steps out of the shower thirty minutes later, his finger tips and toes pruned. His skin burns red from all the scrubbing and welts have raised on his skin from all the scratching. He feels so uncomfortable and so naked, even after he’s pulled on his favorite clothes and sunken into his bed, in the room where he feels safest.

 

One day he’ll have to explain to James. Sooner, he’ll have to at least apologize. But today, he won’t do either.

 

He checks his phone. There’s a text from James.

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

Q wants to respond but he doesn’t, setting his phone back down on his nightstand and resting on his side. He yawns and blinks his eyes a couple times. It’s still light outside. Hardly past two in the afternoon, he confirms as he checks his clock. But he falls asleep despite it, soothed again by the rain.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short but I'm working on the next chapter as soon as I post this.  
> Also, apologies for not updating in several weeks! Life got busy.  
> Enjoy. And prepare for a kiss next chapter.

He returns to work several days later, feeling recovered from his illness. He hasn’t talked much with James since that night despite his want to text him, or to call him and hear his voice. Q only refused to talk to James because James needed to know something -- Q didn’t like when people got tangled up in his past. And there would be no exceptions.

 

Q’s desk has a small package on it, tagged with a small note from James, handwritten with his messy font. It’s an apology.

 

_ Q, _

 

_ I hope I didn’t damage what we have. I stepped out of bonds. I won’t probe again, not like that. _

 

_ 007. _

 

Q opens the package and there’s fresh berries inside. His favorites. Q continues to wonder how James knows all these little details about him and Q feels a warmth in his belly that James remembers these minute facts.

 

Despite the warmth, Q feels unwilling to bite into a berry and move on, sweeping what had happened under the rug. Q feels unwilling to accept James’ apology with open arms. He shoves the berries to the edge of his desk and ignores them, letting them slowly spoil as he works.

 

James does not visit his office for the entirety of the day, which surprises Q despite the situation. James always made sure to visit Q, especially after he’d left Q a gift. But he seems to be getting the message that Q has been struggling to send:  _ Back off. _

 

Unconsciously, he begins to forgive James, far too quickly. He takes the fruit and slowly eats it, not even realizing the meaning of the act. He’d sworn the fruit off, because it represented James and his apology. And Q did not accept it.

  
At least, he didn’t want to.

 

But he did.

 

As he finishes his work for the night, Q transitions into writing the letter that he’s started to only briefly consider. He doesn’t take much time to really think about whether or not it’s a good idea.

 

_ James, _

 

_ I’m not going to spill my guts to you and hope you can heal me. That’s not love. _

 

He pauses, unsure where this note is going. He taps his pen on the paper, wondering if he’ll give it to James or toss it into the fireplace when he gets home, and then he continues to write.

 

_ I don’t know what you’re looking for but I know I’ve been unfair. _

_ You deserve a chance to prove to me that we’re looking for the same thing. _

 

_ Ever your purpose, _

_ Q _

 

It’s stupid and short and silly and ridiculous and none of this stops Q from sliding the letter into James’s office, a small space rarely used by James.

 

He sends a text to James as he leaves work for the night.

_ Check your office tomorrow. _

 


	10. Chapter 10

Q drinks three mugs of caffeinated tea the next morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep after leaving the office and knowing he had actually slipped that letter under the door of James’ office. James had sent him a text letting him know that he would check, so there was no way the letter hadn’t been read by James by now, seeing as it was almost noon.

 

Q hasn’t heard from James and that makes him all the more nervous. His heart feels too heavy and large in his chest and his stomach feels too dense. The anxiety is like an anchor in his body, weighing him down and keeping him sunk in his seat. He can’t focus, he can barely even think. All that can go through his mind is James, James,  _ James.  _ Knowing that it’s time to confront his unease, he forces himself to get out of his chair and seek out James. It was time to figure out what they were and what they were going to be.

 

*****   
  


James is exactly where Q expects him to be: in his office. He knocks after standing outside for at least a minute, his fist hovering by the door and waiting to make a sound.

 

“Come in.”

 

Q swallows nervously and enters, as if following a command. His body is stiff and there’s a lump growing in his throat.

 

James is leaning back against his desk, thoughtfully looking down at a piece of paper -- Q’s note. There’s a furrow in his brow and Q carefully observes the way James’s eyes move from the bottom of the note back to the top. He’s rereading it, over and over again. Like he’s clinging to every word, and trying to get out of them every ounce of emotion.

 

“Q.”

 

“007.”

 

“Close the door,” James asks. “Please.”

 

He does as James says, glad that they’re sealing themselves into a bubble of privacy. And yet, he’s nervous to be shut into the same room as James right now. James isn’t looking up from the letter. Q, a bit awkwardly, takes a couple more steps into the office after quietly closing the door behind him.

 

“Did you lock it?”

 

“Why?” Q asks, nervous that maybe he shouldn’t have.

 

“Because my offer still stands,” James murmurs, finally setting the letter aside. He slowly folds it back up and places it within a small folder on his desk.

 

Q furrows his brow. “I don’t understand --”

 

“Let me kiss you,” James says, and Q finishes for him.

 

“And if I don’t like it, you’ll leave me be.” James gives Q a little smile and Q’s heart flutters with relief from the knowledge that whatever they had, is still there. Q slowly approaches James as he slacks his shoulder and lets his messenger back slide down his arm, catch in his hand, and fall to the floor.

 

James is watching his every move like a hawk watches its prey and Q has to fight back a shudder. To be watched with such intensity -- it sends a thrill through him, now that Q has accepted it for what it is; now that Q has accepted the reality that he could run from his feelings, but he could never hide. Q clears his throat once he’s a mere step from James, swallowing his nerves.

 

James smirks. “You’re nervous,” he observes aloud, and Q wants to slap him upside the head.

 

“Of course I’m nervous, you prat.”

 

This earns a small laugh from James and Q looks up from the floor just in time to see James close the bit of space between them, crossing what felt like both an inch and a galaxy. James kisses him and it’s so short and sweet that Q really questions if it’s really an assassin who just kissed him, or if Q just fooled himself into it.

 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Q says frustratedly.

 

“What d’you mean, ‘What was that’?” James echoes.

 

“Years of building up to a kiss and that’s all you’ve got, 007?”

 

“I said I was going to kiss you, not suck your face off, Q,” James says rather calmly, and Q gets red in the face.

 

Q gesticulates a moment before giving up altogether and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Right, well -- if that’s all.” Disquieted, Q turns to leave.

 

“ _ If that’s all? _ ” James repeats incredulously. Q smiles to himself as he grabs his bag, unlocks the door and opens it.

 

“You know where to find me,” Q says over his shoulder as he leaves, suddenly very composed. James can hear the smirk in his voice

 

*****

 

James spends the rest of the day staving off the need to leave work and go home early just to rid of the uncomfortable bulge tenting the crotch of his pants.

 

Kissing Q -- god, oh  _ god. _ If rose petals were soft, Q’s lips were indescribable. It had been so satisfying to kiss Q, finally, but all it did was leave James wanting -- needing -- more.

 

It takes James a moment to realize that was exactly what Q had intended.

 

“Tease,” James mutters to himself, pulling out his phone and preparing a text for Q moments before receiving one.

 

_ Dinner tonight? _

 

James smiles fondly.  _ I’d be a fool to decline. _

 

_ Clever of you, 007. _

 

_ Where are we eating? _

 

_ Surprise,  _ Q replies.  _ Meet me at my place, around nine. _

 

_ Sure. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally got to a kiss :,) i know it wasn't that much of a kiss, just a lil smooch. you'll be getting something more satisfying next chapter but i figured that after all you've read, you deserved a kiss! thank you for reading this far. expect a good snog soon. and then expect complete porn. :-)


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